


Balance

by Ki_ru



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demon Deals, M/M, Mild Gore, Mystery, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Violence, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 02:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20771108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_ru/pseuds/Ki_ru
Summary: Cove is a peaceful harbour city, wealthy through trade within the Duchess' well-protected Ring which keeps away the things lurking in the deep. The Azure was one of the ships venturing further out and procuring more exotic cargo, until it stopped laying anchor in Cove one day.Now, the Azure has finally returned - but something is off about it.





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nutbrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutbrain/gifts).

Her arrival is bone-chilling.

The fog is thick this morning, unusually so, dampness clings to skin and leaves the sun no opportunity to warm the citizens’ hearts. Like a solid cloud, it hangs above the sea, the surface glass-like and just as grey as the bleak sky above. Out of nowhere, a figurehead appears in the uniformly coloured mist, the stern of a galleon, and then massive sails, white as snow, rippling in non-existent wind. The fabric is blinding and eerie, no part of the sailing vessel making a sound as it glides into the harbour, slower than it should according to the proud canvas.

The Azure hasn’t anchored here since the last serious attack on the Ring – which lies years back.

The Azure never had white sails.

He recognises the ship instantly and drops the tomatoes he was holding; ignores the wet _splat_ they produce upon bursting open, fights down the voice telling him he’ll get a bitter scolding for ruining them later, and runs.

Confused, worried expressions whiz past him, here and there a scowl, a suspicious squint, but he doesn’t care – he doesn’t care about the fact that still, there is no sound coming from the large galleon despite heads popping up to moor it, young Flair having jumped off to help with the procedure. She’s recognisable by the stiff way she walks and he nearly calls out her name happily.

An arm stops him abruptly, slaps across his chest and makes him lose his balance, hit the cobbled ground hard. Despite admonishing him, the eyes of the mayor are glued to the Azure: “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you, Boy.”

Boy rises slowly, rubbing his hurting backside and dares not to object, not when it’s Matheos himself between him and the ship. “They’re back”, he says quietly, as if he needs to justify his hurry.

The mayor manages to divert his attention and gives him a long look. “Are they?”

More people are dropping down to the pier now, some from a dangerous height, others taking the ladder. All other sailors have withdrawn, instinctively shied away from the new arrivals, and so it’s only the crew, Matheos and Boy on the boardwalk. Boy recognises them all, struggles with their names a little but identifies them in his head: it’s Ivory, with the wild markings on his strong arms, Haze, who let him have bits and pieces of their cargo if he asked her nicely, Smile, looking thinner and more haggard.

But Ivory isn’t talking with his booming voice. Haze isn’t doing her full-bellied laugh. And Smile’s eyes aren’t focused.

Boy is bursting with anticipation. He doesn’t see him yet, can’t hear him over the deafening roar of silence which has fallen over the stretched-out port of Cove. More and more crew members amass quietly on the pier, stand around as if they’re frozen in time and leave their gazes directed at the floor.

And then, there he is. Spark swings over the railing and descends elegantly, like one of the squirrels Boy sometimes feeds, his grace not betraying the strength in his limbs and his clothes not flattering the physique Boy knows is hidden underneath. He’s always had a way of making people underestimate him, but Boy saw through him most of the time. He’s convinced it’s only because Spark allowed it.

Once again, Matheos’ hand shoves him back hard. Boy hadn’t even noticed he’d started to move towards the Azure’s first mate. Spark’s presence is so overwhelming that he can’t think.

Finally, Essence steps forward. The ship’s master is clad in crimson, as usual, and her hand is resting on the sabre by her side. Her dark eyes pierce the mayor. “_You_”, she says and it sounds like a signal.

They all turn to look at Matheos. In the fog, it’s not even possible to see the crew furthest at the back, and yet there’s no doubt in Boy’s mind that even the ones he cannot spot are glaring at the mayor by his side. A chill runs down his spine and he allows himself to acknowledge the obvious.

There is something very, very wrong with the Azure.

“You are not welcome here”, Matheos replies loudly, though his voice must be getting swallowed by the mist over a distance.

“We have no cargo. We have no ban. We are here legally.”

Essence is correct – even as mayor, Matheos cannot prohibit them to anchor and go ashore, not without a reason. There never has been a reason. Essence keeps her crew on a short leash if necessary and Boy has only caught wind of one, maybe two transgressions. They were punished accordingly.

Besides, if they were allowed to pass the Ring, there is nothing Matheos can do.

“I ask you to leave, on behalf of the people of Cove.” His voice is shaking. Boy only notices because he’s right beside him. Above their heads, the sails continue to billow in a breeze which doesn’t exist.

“Let us ask them, in that case.” Spark is by far the liveliest of them all, which is not saying much. Unlike his fellow crew members’ stony expressions, he’s displaying the hint of a smirk and weaves back and forth between the others, makes it look effortless. “Boy? What say you?”

His heart skips a beat. There’s a sharp discrepancy between the iciness of the mist and the rising heat inside him, surfacing on his cheeks. Spark is holding his gaze and he feels as if he’s melting. “Please stay”, he mutters and though Spark _can’t_ have heard him, he straightens up a little in pride. It makes the smack to the back of his head more than worth it.

“Fucking stupid boy”, Matheos hisses, turns around and strides away. His leaving is the signal for everyone to stop holding their collective breath, try to go back to work while keeping an eye on the impossibly white sails of the Azure and her crew.

They’re a bastion of calm, two rocks unmoved by the tide. Essence and Smile and Flair walk between them and yet their eye contact is uninterrupted as the other sailors wash up against the ship’s hull around him and climb back on like ants returning to their colony. No orders are given, only muffled footsteps fill the space between them.

Boy moves first. They meet in the middle because Spark’s legs are longer, and halt with enough distance. Boy can smell him, the mix of aniseed, salt, sweat, old wood – but there’s something else there. Decay. Spark’s smile tries its best to reach his eyes yet is unsuccessful.

“We can’t meet”, Boy tells him. “They will know.”

“We can’t meet where they see us”, Spark corrects him gently. His words come slower and the years weren’t kind to him. “The abandoned warehouse. At the next strike of the clock.”

His heart is overflowing. Boy is radiating relief and wants nothing more than to reach out and convince himself of the fact that Spark is real. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

Spark nods. The gesture comes out a little jagged.

The atmosphere in the taproom is gloomy when Boy returns, cradling newly-purchased tomatoes like valuable treasure. Despite the early hour, the tavern is crowded with stern faces and half-full tankards, hushed voices and side glances. All the important members of the city are here, all the guild masters and advisors, the chaplain, the most influential traders, even a few other captains who are meeting the Azure’s arrival with concern. Artius, Boy’s father, is pouring beer after beer and nodding gravely, deep in conversation with Matheos. They have no more to spare for Boy than a brief look.

He walks past them, keeping his head down, and begins restocking the kitchen after laying out the leftover coins on the table. With one ear, he’s able to follow some bits of conversation floating into the room which do nothing to fill him with confidence.

“- impossible”, Matheos rants on, “we need to get rid of them. They shouldn’t be here, not after -”

“- something abnormal -”

“- inhuman -”

They’ve never liked the Azure. Not many in Cove did, even if the crew carried goods otherwise unobtainable, did so for a reasonable price, ran routes most other ships didn’t dare. Maybe it was the colour of their skin, the unusual way Essence runs her crew, the fact that they ventured where no one had ventured before while flying no flag but their own. Boy isn’t sure, all he knows is that he’s always enjoyed their company, looked forward to their arrival every year.

Their absence left behind a sour taste in his mouth and a gaping hole in his heart, but now they’re back. And he will not let superstition mar this experience.

“What is this?!” Artius’ voice booms, echoes in the cramped kitchen and makes Boy jump, has him wince again when it’s accompanied by a cuff to his ear. “This isn’t all the money you’ve got left over, hand over the rest or I’ll beat you bloody!”

“I dropped the tomatoes”, he whimpers and flinches when his father’s gaze darkens. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’ll work for it, I swear, I’m sorry -”

“You could’ve still used them.” It’s his usual growl now, quiet and dangerous. “These fancy idiots wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Go sweep before you cook, and finish all your duties before it gets busy.”

“I still have a little time -”

“Do it _now_.” Artius grabs a bottle of the good brandy and walks back outside, all jovial and welcoming once again.

And Boy sets out to take care of his responsibilities as fast as possible.

He arrives much too late. By all means, Spark should’ve left long ago, but there he is, perched on a half-rotted crate and dangling his feet. If Boy didn’t know better, he’d think he was drunk – reactions are sluggish, dark eyes travel to him too slowly and he’s unsteady. Something is wrong.

“I’m sorry”, Boy gasps, out of breath from running through half the city. The mist is still there, lurking almost like a sentient being, thickening even as evening approaches, and if he didn’t know Cove like the back of his hand, he’d have gotten lost. “I couldn’t – I’m sorry. I wanted to be on time, but -”

Spark shakes his head and walks towards him. In a painfully familiar gesture, large hands cradle Boy’s skull, gentle thumbs trace his cheekbones and filed down nails brush over his scalp in a soothing manner. What could be taken as threatening calms him instead and he relaxes into the soft grip. “It matters not. You’re here.” The Azure’s chief officer touches their foreheads together and reminds Boy of a time when he was so much shorter, could barely touch a young Spark’s face. Now they’re still no equals, but not much separates them anymore.

He smells clammy, like stale water. Boy is afraid of the answer to his question. “What happened to you?”

A nose brushes over his own. “There are more important things. Let’s not talk.”

And so they don’t.

Come evening, the dampness in the air is unbearable. Sweat refuses to evaporate, causing Boy’s shirt to cling to him uncomfortably. Dirah – the old shopkeep from next door – pushes a few biscuits into his pockets when he fetches some ointment for his father and he appreciates her gesture so deeply that he vows to savour them. He can watch them go stale in the humidity, and still he’d rather eat chewy bakeware the next day than have nothing to look forward to.

The Azure looms over Cove. And if her presence wasn’t enough to strike fear into the citizens’ hearts, the activity on deck certainly does: no one is allowed shore leave after the brief verbal altercation in the morning, and so the crew seems busy with maintenance. No one knows where they procured their supplies to repair and reinforce the hull, to replace some of the rigging. No one dares to ask.

Whenever anyone approaches the proud ship, endless pairs of eyes slide towards the potential threat. All hands stop moving, all legs stop walking.

People have learnt to make a wide berth.

Curiosity and concern tug at Boy’s limbs yet he’s needed in the taproom; pouring drinks and making himself invisible. All the dignitaries have gathered once more, now together with their wives and husbands whose expressions range from frightened to livid. They occupy the largest table and possess the loudest voices, and Boy wonders whether it’s not all the empty threats and hot air produced by the self-appointed council which makes the Azure’s sails wave in an imperceptible breeze.

“They should be dead”, the mayor exclaims full of disbelief. “By all logic, they couldn’t have survived.”

Boy knows what he’s talking about. Has known in his bones for years, held on to the suspicion spitefully as if anything would come out of it. Matheos has always watched them with disdain. The year the Azure left and never came back, he was already an old man, set in his ways, and believing himself to know it better. To be awarded with the power to play at being a God. He’s learning that there are repercussions. There are always repercussions.

The door slams open and silence erupts.

Essence’ hair is wild, but not as wild as her fiery gaze. She comes to a halt in the middle of the room and waits until her trusty crew has assembled behind her, shuffled into the room with tired eyes and a hand by their hip. Somehow, their metal gleams sharper than Boy remembers.

He’s frozen to the spot, caught somewhere between the new arrivals and the bar where Artius’ stony face gives nothing away. Spark’s attention is elsewhere, focused on his captain.

“Leave”, Artius demands. His voice is uneven. “We don’t want you here.”

The reply is quiet and stems from the middle of the crowd: “Balance.” A man, as thin as a twig, glides to the table closest to Essence and perches on it, knees drawn up and slim face scrunched. Boy has never seen him before. “It’s about balance. All about balance.”

Following a nod from her captain, Fang steps forwards. She’s around Boy’s age but looks ancient, cheeks sunken in and skin pallid. An accusing finger is lifted up and directed at Holtor, Dirah’s husband. “You’ve taken something from me I’ll never get back”, her clear voice rings through the mute room. “You owe me my honour. You continued even though I said no.”

Everyone is holding their breath. Despite the brave tirades Boy witnessed just minutes ago, the self-important citizens are paralysed and seem ready to make a sacrifice if it means they’ll be rid of this inconvenience.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, Holtor defends himself indignantly, “never did I injure your honour, publicly or otherwise. You’re mistaken. She’s mistaken!”

“Balance”, the odd man repeats quietly.

“Now I will accept compensation.” And with that, Fang has jumped into their midst, dagger drawn and teeth showing, and like from a rabid animal, the others part in horror and shrieks. Holtor isn’t fast enough, doesn’t manage to escape the young woman and pays the price for it. His screams echo in the commotion, marrow-deep and chilling, climbing until it’s unbearable and Boy covers his ears. Crimson splatters and he wishes he’d held his eyes shut instead because he can see bone and blood gushing, skin flapping futilely.

Fang drops Holtor’s right hand on the tabletop before him. When she returns to her crew, there’s no remorse on her face.

“_Rapist_”, the skinny man mutters.

Boy has dropped the tankard he was holding. Holtor is crying now, whimpering as he’s dragged outside by his shocked wife as well as Cove’s only doctor.

“You have no right”, Matheos yells but he reminds Boy of a yipping dog, thinking itself strong yet fleeing at the first sign of danger. “I will call the Duchess’ guard on you. The Ring guard. Leave and never come back!”

The captain doesn’t respond. She’s unmoved by the uproar around her.

Ivory steps forward and, cutting through the confused and panicked cacophony with his booming voice, addresses one of the city’s traders, Nayna. “You’ve taken something from me I’ll never get back. You owe me my mother’s heirloom.”

“No. No!” Nayna is blanching, retreating, looking for help. No one comes to her aid. No one is mopping up Holtor’s blood either. “I won it fair and square! It’s not my fault you wagered it, and I didn’t cheat.”

“I was drunk. You were not. I will accept compensation.”

“Please! I’m sorry! You can have its worth back, I’ll give you more than it was worth. Take it!” Between sobs, Nayna tosses jewellery at the stoic second mate, lets coins clink onto the wooden floor, even adds her purse. Eventually, Ivory nods and returns to his previous place without picking anything up. The gold lies forlornly on the planks.

No one is gathering it up. No one is going to take it.

“_Thief_”, the man on the table barks.

“Consider this your last warning.” The mayor’s voice is shaky. “I will not have you threaten my citizens. One more transgression, and you’ll be executed by her majesty’s orders. Leave.”

Finally, Essence steps forward. Her nose almost touches Matheos’ and still her words are audible to everyone present. “You’ve taken something from me I’ll never get back”, she hisses, dripping with venom. “My crew. My ship. My life.”

Normally composed and regal, the mayor is now shaking. “I don’t -”

“You sent us out. You said the seas were calm. You said the creatures were sleeping. You knew you were sending us to our deaths.”

Boy remembers the day, remembers the punch in the gut when Matheos announced the Azure’s departure despite the dangerous conditions. _Reckless thrill-seekers_, he said. _They wanted to sail. Best have the Gods on their side or we’ll never see them again_.

Boy never fully believed in the Gods, but that night, he prayed. And the night after that. And after that.

He stopped when the galleon didn’t visit them the next year.

“I accept compensation.”

All eyes are on Matheos. Most everyone is making themselves as small as possible and eyeing the unnaturally sharp weapons by the sailors’ sides with trepidation.

“I have nothing to give”, he whispers.

“Correct.” Essence, now fearsome captain instead of jovial friend, scans the room. “Nothing, _no one_ here is worth what I’ve lost. So we’ll take what we can. We will bleed this city dry.”

Boy expects more bloodshed and breathes a sigh of relief when they turn on their heels instead, filing out one by one to everyone else’s bewilderment. Spark shoots him a glance and it’s frightfully emotionless. Boy has no idea what’s going on.

The only one who remains is the stranger on the table, the likes of which Boy has never seen before. His grin is unsettling. “_Murderer_”, he spits before Matheos’ feet and shambles out as well.

“Send for the guard”, Matheos says quietly. “Inform them immediately. This will not stand.”

No one moves for a long time.

Boy watches the blood drip down through a crack in the table. He thinks he sees one of Holtor’s fingers twitch.

~*~

He’s always eyed the sailors.

On good days, the horizon is endless and Boy pictures exploring it, travelling to distant places while relying on a small band of adventurers who have each other’s back. Working in the taproom allows him to absorb unthinkable tales and yarns, and he’s especially attentive when it comes to those who have ventured past the Ring, the first line of defence between the duchy and the wild, unpredictable sea.

There they sit, foul-mouthed and one-upping each other with every breath, and Boy can’t think of anything he’d rather be. Hair is adorned with shells and corals, beards long and braided, skin sun-kissed and hands calloused. The women wear trousers and the children climb like monkeys. All of them have time to spare to share their favourite stories with him.

His father harbours nothing but contempt and complains behind their backs, bemoans their alcohol consumption and corruption of the youth, and it’s obvious whom he means. But their business is lucrative.

Boy doesn’t understand Artius’ disgust until he’s much older, when he realises his mother is missing whenever a certain ship has laid anchor. Two, in fact. He supposes being third choice stings.

The Azure has always been his favourite. Her ocean blue sails can be spotted from a mile away, if the weather allows it, and the crew brings with it a vibrant, vivid energy into the city. Smile shows off all the tricks the ship’s cats can do, Haze secretly hands out memorabilia and stories, and Ivory wins every drinking contest. Essence, never frazzled, remains the eye of the storm within her crew, always composed, always vigilant. Boy is scared of her until he catches her colouring her hair. She gifts him a smile and receives the promise not to tell in return. She’s softer around the edges from then on, at least with Boy.

And Spark.

Where the captain has received formal education under the Duchess’ naval overseer, Spark nearly became a pirate. He’s practical, spontaneous, and a kind of clever Essence seems to value. They disagree as much as they share opinions, yet both remain calm during their discussions. She admits defeat now and then. Artius says she’s weak because of it. Boy isn’t so sure.

Spark carries him on his shoulders every time the Azure arrives in Cove. He does it with other children, too, but he must notice Boy’s hunger for the sea.

When Boy is almost of age, Spark asks him about his future.

_The bar_, he replies. _The tavern. It’ll be mine_.

The Azure’s first mate continues sculpting the seahorse-shaped wood between his fingers. _Is that what you want?_

_No._ No hesitation.

_You work hard. You’re diligent. _Boy’s chest swells. Spark must have paid attention to him to notice this. No one pays attention to him. _You’re wasted on this city_.

He gets to keep the seahorse and feels a fluttering in his stomach every time he looks at it.

After that, the Azure sails in foreign waters and doesn’t return for two, three years, much to Boy’s disappointment. He receives a letter from Spark which he hides, but not good enough. Like the sculpture, it ends up in flames.

When the galleon returns, Spark looks at him differently. Boy finds every excuse to be in his vicinity, and when he asks to be carried on Spark’s shoulders again, they end up in a quiet corner of the nearest warehouse. Spark is warm and gentle, and Boy feels _real_ for the first time in his life.

It’s six months until they meet again, and the flame has lost nothing of its ferocity.

Boy begins daydreaming about his future on the Azure, about falling asleep with hands carding through his hair and a salty breeze accompanying him wherever he goes.

~*~

Matheos has been strung up like a pig.

Nailed to the noticeboard in the middle of the marketplace, he’s been bled dry, face contorted in pain and horror, clothes crusty from his own blood.

Boy can hear someone vomit next to him. He doesn’t look. His gaze is fixed on the corpse which once was their mayor. On the ground, someone has painted a word with Matheos’ life essence: _BALANCE_. Once again, he hears the raspy voice hiss it in his head – he’s never seen anyone like that man, and it’s not difficult to imagine where the Azure has picked him up.

The mayor’s husband is kneeling before the mangled piece of flesh which once led the city, face ashen and fists clenched, unable to produce anything intelligible.

“Gone too far”, Artius mumbles by Boy’s side, keeping up the iron grip on his shoulder. “They’ve gone too far. What of the guard?”

Jaiko steps forward as the one who rode like the wind yesterday evening, setting out to rid Cove of this plague. Her haggard features stem from something other than lack of sleep. “The Azure has not passed the Ring”, she speaks up.

Despite the impossibility of this statement, Boy doesn’t find himself surprised. Over the commotion which follows, he hears footsteps in the distance and stiffens. The entire city has assembled to witness this bloodshed. But maybe it has only just begun.

“No one can sneak past them”, Dirah cries, her world crumbling around her, “no one passes the Ring undetected!”

“They haven’t seen any ship like it.” Jaiko remains calm amid the confusion and outrage. “They will not send reinforcements. One called me drunk, another a lunatic. We’re on our own.”

And then, another yell erupts out of the unusually thick mist, causing instant dread.

“_ARTIUS_!”

Boy recognises the voice. “No”, he whispers, but he can’t stop it.

They appear one by one, first Spark only, then it’s a small group, then a sheer army of blank, unmerciful, _wrong_ faces. Daggers and swords and sabres are drawn just a smidge, a hint of steel gleaming in a light which doesn’t exist. A chill runs through the unarmed onlookers, helpless in their naivety and impotent in their righteous fury. The temperature seems to drop and unlike the night before, the crew locks eyes with specific members of the community around them. Boy’s knees almost give in when Flair stares him down.

Hushed whispers are all that’s left. This is it.

This is the end of Cove, no doubt.

Weaving between the murderous sailors is the bony man, hurrying to the centre of the marketplace and climbing the noticeboard as if Matheos’ body was nothing but a stepping stone. Dirty soles drag over limbs and dig into shoulders, slender fingers keep a hold on dark hair, and the head lolls around uselessly. The man is satisfied once he’s crouched on top. He’s only missing the wings to qualify as a vulture.

“How dare you -”, Matheos’ husband roars and then shrieks when a knife appears in his shoulder, too fast and too precise to be thrown by a human, even though Essence’ skills are famed. She fans more out in her hands, ready to use them, but the poor soul backs away from his love, angry, hurt, resentful.

“Artius”, Spark repeats and it’s like they have the plague – people scramble to get away from Boy and his father as soon as they realise.

The grip tightens. Boy wouldn’t leave regardless.

“You’ve taken something from me I’ll never get back.” And he’s right, isn’t he? Boy knows he is. His eyes begin to sting. “Boy was supposed to come with me that day. You beat him. Made sure he couldn’t walk. And then locked him in because we both know I would’ve carried him regardless.” His cold rage is palpable.

“You deserve what you got”, Artius spits out and Spark’s grimace worsens. Boy has never seen him like this, patient, kind Spark now thirsty for revenge.

This isn’t him.

What he touched yesterday, it was but a shadow of the man he once knew, a husk of the person he loved, and now there’s nothing left.

“I will accept compensation.”

His father will not comply, and Boy knows it. He blurts out: “Take me.”

The air is so thick he could cut it with a blade. Spark seems taken aback first, then troubled, and it’s a glimpse of his real personality. Questioning, he turns to Essence who directs her attention to the predator perched above the mayor.

“Too much”, he croaks. “Upsets the balance.”

“I was meant to be on the Azure anyway”, Boy argues. The fingertips burying themselves in his shoulder hurt. “The ship is my rightful place.”

Pale eyes flit about. “You belong here.”

“No. I’m a found child. I have no name. No one here has a claim on me.” He despises having to state it openly yet it’s true.

A few tense moments follow during which the man remains perfectly silent, then he finally nods. A wave of relief hits the crew, oddly enough, and they sheathe their weapons. “We will demand the rest later”, Essence declares and turns to leave.

Spark takes his hand and drags him away, relieves him of the hurtful grip. He’s chilly, and the stale smell hasn’t dissipated either, but the corners of his mouth strain gently upwards. “You will regret this choice”, he says nonetheless. “This was a mistake.”

“I want to share everything with you, be what it may”, Boy responds and only then notices the pain in Spark’s features.

He’s suffering.

They all are.

Once on board, the scrawny man hastens to climb the middle mast, not even bothering to throw a glance back, and it’s Essence who approaches him. “He wants to speak to you”, she says and her eyes are empty.

And so Boy begins his climb to the one who’s long replaced the former captain of the Azure, who ripped out the ship’s beating heart and replaced it with the shrivelled excuse of an organ, who reduced and reaped and respected not.

He’s never been to the crow’s nest on the Azure, never to any crow’s nest, and vertigo slows his movements. With every step he makes, he distances himself further from his former life on land, in Cove, as Boy. He does not know what he will end up as.

The man’s stare drills into him when he arrives. They’re so high up Boy can barely see the deck through all the fog. The crew stands, unmoving. They have surpassed human needs.

“You have no name”, the raspy voice addresses him, intrigued.

“No”, he confirms. He knows how important names are, especially on the sea, knows how much power it awards to know another person’s name. Knows how much more power it awards to assign one.

They’re facing each other, Boy shaking and the creature scanning him hungrily. It won’t be long until it does to him what it did to the sailors.

“I know the perfect one for you.” And claws shoot towards him, claws belonging to an almost skeleton hand, but Boy expected it. He ducks, dodges, jumps to the side and hits the wall of the crow’s nest, and then he lunges.

One push is enough, one hard shove containing his all-encompassing fear and his ire, and the man falls with an otherworldly screech much too loud for lungs this small. It pierces Boy’s eardrums painfully the entire way down and he nearly loses his footing as well, but just as sudden as it appeared, it’s gone.

There’s a deafening splash, reminiscent of the time a whale found its way into the harbour and jumped out of the water almost entirely, and then it’s gone. The curse which crawled its way onto the Azure that fateful day she set her sails for almost the last time has vanished, exploded into nothing more than a wet puddle on the planks. It might return into the sea and wait until it’s washed out of the inlet again, until it’s reached the open ocean beyond the Ring and can regenerate its power. Boy doesn’t know what will become of it. Boy doesn’t want to know.

Shakily, he climbs back down and fears for the worst, yet the crew greets him with sombre expressions instead of empty ones.

“We will leave and never come back”, Essence informs him gravely while Fang and Ivory and Smile and all the others behind her are busy releasing the ship, preparing it for departure. “This bond of trust that’s been severed will never be repaired. We can’t return to Cove. But even so, we thank you.”

Haze’s laugh echoes behind them. And though it’s not as loud as before, its sound soothes Boy. Over the captain’s shoulder, Spark is smiling.

They’re back.

“I’ll stay”, he answers the unasked question. “I belong here.”

Essence nods. “You do.”

And as the galleon sets its sails, the canvas tinted a shade darker than before, as the crew bickers and mourns in between, as the hull creaks and footsteps reverberate and commands are barked, Essence raises her voice above the noise: “You are quick, both in mind and in body. And you accomplished what the rest of your city couldn’t. From here on out, you will be known as Fleet.”

Even without getting distracted by Spark’s infectious grin, Fleet can’t stop beaming.

Confidently, the Azure sails towards the Ring, aiming to pass through and find her own way after. Never once does Fleet look back towards Cove, now starkly visible with the fog cleared. His gaze is directed forwards.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Nutbrain who gave me an excuse to finish this piece!  
I hope you all enjoyed it :) Come visit [my tumblr](http://kiruuuuu.tumblr.com/) for much, much more content or if you'd like to say hi ♥


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